


Dont fear the fight, fear the Dark

by Maura_Moo



Category: Darkiplier - Fandom, OC - Fandom, mark fischbach - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Fanfic, Fluff, Markiplier egos - Freeform, Original Character - Freeform, Original Character(s), POV Third Person, Slow Updates, Smut, Third person writing, long ass title, sorry this is not updated all the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 04:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maura_Moo/pseuds/Maura_Moo
Summary: Mark has been acting weirdNo, maybe weird wasn’t the right word. Weird made it sound that Mark was still acting somewhat like himself. He wasn’t. There was no trace of the usual Mark Fischbach in those cold, lifeless black hole like eyes. People who were acting weird would still talk like themselves not like some other entity has sucked all personality out from said person.





	Dont fear the fight, fear the Dark

Mark has been acting weird

No, maybe weird wasn’t the right word. Weird made it sound that Mark was still acting somewhat like himself. He wasn’t. There was no trace of the usual Mark Fischbach in those cold, lifeless black hole like eyes. People who were acting weird would still talk like themselves not like some other entity has sucked all personality out from said person.

Mark seemed to fluctuate between two different modes as if someone has switched a switch in his mind. There were days that Mark would just sit and stare at the walls, unmoving and unblinking like somebody had taken him hostage. A prisoner in his own mind. Not knowing what else to do or how else to help him or how else to free him; Meredith would just sit next to him, running her hands over the roadmap of veins that appeared on the back of his hands, bulging as his muscles tightened into place. A dead body slowly going into rigour mortis as the life drained out of a once comforting young man.

if he wasn’t practically catatonic, Mark would bounce hyperactively around the apartment like a balloon losing air, he would zip from room to room, never settling into one place for long before he was off again, flitting through paperwork and videos to cleaning out his office. Powerless over the roadrunner that had taken over her boyfriend, Meredith just stood watching; hiding her concern behind a gentle smile and soft green eyes.

“Maybe it's his ADD meds” Meredith would pray out loud as she sadly retreated into their double bed alone, having only a faded t-shirt as her tissue. The gentle smell of Mark’s cologne casting a gentle hum over her wet cheeks and into her stuffed nose. “please let it be his ADD medication” she would beg in frantic whispers at the stars, winking down at her with unknowing.

  
Countless doctors had stared at her with angry scepticism. As if she was the one with the problem. Even Mark would stare at her confused almost betrayed whenever her voice quivered.

Every doctor's appointment left nothing but empty confusion and fear. Any recorded evidence was pushed away with a dismissive “he’s healthy enough” and a large dent in their wallets.

  
Meredith lost count of just how many arguments she had with uninterested, baffled doctors and just how many sleepless nights she had spent alone while her boyfriend sat in the living room on stand-by. “Maybe I’m the one with the problem” she began to question, maybe Mark was fine and she was just overreacting. Maybe it was her head that was broken.

“just an overreaction” she whispered into the darkness as her fingers weaved slowly through tangled black waves. It was one of the rare nights that Mark had actually gone to bed, the light of the TV reflecting of his emotionless face. “I’m here Mark” she whispered, brushing soft fingertips over his forehead, teasing the curls that lingered against his brow still damp from his after-workout shower.

“I’m always here” the softness in her voice more of a gentle comfort to her instead of the man who laid against her shoulder. With neither of them full interested in the television, Meredith decided it best to just turn it off. The weight that she had grew accustomed to on her shoulder had moved, making her look up and over towards Mark. “Mark, what’s wrong?”

He had jerked upwards into a standing position in front of the bed, hands tucked behind his back in a careful watchful pose. His movements were robotic and strange, slowly he turned, shifting closer to the end of the bed, closer to her. They made eye contact; hers large and fearful, his unnervingly void of emotion. Almost in a mockery of curiosity, he tilts his head eyebrows narrowing “who, exactly, is Mark?”

With his hands balled into nervous fists, the hairs on the back of Meredith’s neck stood on end, and fearful sweat coated her brow. The voice that she once adored was now cold, monotonous, unsettling. “M-Mark?” she whispered struggling to find her strength. Meredith knew what was in front of her was not safe.

Suddenly there was a crackle of white noise. It made her ears hurt and ring. As if trying to block the cacophony of sounds she covered her ears with her hands. Her vision blurred suddenly as if she had been dragged underwater by some stronger force. Every muscle in her body ached, clenching tightly. The lights that were once turned off now flickered and blinked. Everything felt overpowering, she wanted to scream but there was no air in her lungs. It burnt to breathe.

She looked

And then everything stopped. Her body paralysed with pain or perhaps out of sheer fear itself. Mark, or whatever stood in front of her, staring at her; reached out pressing a finger under her chin forcing her frantic green eyes to meet his cold coal-like ones. His hands were cold as if the once warm body of her boyfriend had been replaced by a walking corpse. “Mark, y-you’re hurting me” she practically begged the rolling shapes Finally, he removed his hand from her face now tipping his head to the side in a mockery of curiosity as if the Scot had simply quipped a fact. “whose Mark sweetheart?” his voice was unsettlingly monotonous, being dry enough to suck the very air out of her already burning lungs. The hairs on her arm stood up, chilling to the thought of the shadow in front of her is not safe.

The explosion of electric blue and blood-red made her eyes sting as if someone had prised them open with rusted pliers. The shadow stepped closer like a lion stalking its weakened prey. It stepped closer. And closer. Footsteps falling with a crack against the carpeted floorboards.

He reached out, grabbing both her shoulders and…

“Meredith, Meri pickle you gotta wake up” the voice was smooth, soft. Familiar. a voice that she hadn’t heard clearly for a long time. The heaviness that consumed her head was slowly lifted.

Carefully her eyes opened blinking in the low, early morning daylight. Her eyes shifted from the rising sun to the creased eyes in front of her.

She scanned his face. He looked normal, the most normal he had looked in a long time. The flat, emptiness of his eyes had been replaced with the familiar soft shimmer of love. Everything about the man kneeling in front of her was normal, the same goofy, lopsided smile that she fell in love with now spread slowly across his face as she pushed herself up and wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight love-filled embrace. “MARKIE!” she couldn’t help but shout his name as she tightened her grip against his shoulders. He only chuckled, his chest vibrating as if he was purring. For the first time in a long while, she had the man that she fell in love with back.

She pulled away taking her time to warm herself up in the warmth of his lightened coal eyes. Carefully she reached to caress his cheek and found it went as if he had been crying. “what happened love? You blacked out have you been eating enough?” he sounded concerned as his head rolled, his cheek rubbing against the softness of her palm. His stubble had gotten thicker and felt like sandpaper as he nuzzled his face into her small hand, “you scared me so much...I thought you were dead”

With a gentle laugh, the scot pulled her hand away moving his down his arm, gently feeling the muscles under the thin fabric of his t-shirt before lacing her fingers with his. “you fuss too much. But yes I am eating enough.” Rocking forwards, their lips met in a gentle kiss, it lasted seconds but was laced in passion. Like the gentle rains after a heatwave. “It's you I'm worried about. You scared me so much”

“s-scared you?” he echoed in a low whisper. The Scot watched cautiously holding his hands as his face contorted from confusion, to fear and finally to apology. Marks grip tightened against her knuckles and his body turned quickly, fully facing her now. His eyes glistened like wet stones and tears rolled slowly down his cheeks “Meredith I-“ he stopped himself from talking, snatching his hands away steeling himself to the truth “He has returned”

Meredith just looked at him, her face copying his apologetically confused gaze “Mark what are you talking about? Whose returned?”

“Darkiplier”

**Author's Note:**

> I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes  
They've seen things that you never quite say, but I hear


End file.
